Of Love Changing
by Elz Durden
Summary: The pirate's love may change him more than anyone could have ever imagined. Complete for now.
1. The Forest

Note - Major rewrite going on right now. Sorry if this causes a lot of emails for your inbox! I re-wrote and am re-posting the first three chapters and hope to have a new chapter up soon. I was unhappy with this work when I read it over again after so long. I hope this updated version is an easier read with a strong plot. As always, unbeta-ed so if you see a glaring error, feel free to comment. Thank you!

~.~

The Forest was old before time began the fast pace of the Humes.

Even the youngest sapling, with dark smooth bark and tender unfurling leaves, had begun its growth before the establishment of the oldest of the Hume villages. This was a place of life, where the Mist ran gently with each breeze and kissed the ground with new morning dew. The Forest was more alive and sentient than most of the creatures that walked beneath its boughs. She had thoughts all of her own – feelings, plans, ideas and, thanks to being a creature of the Mist, the power to shape the confines of its borders to suit her needs and moods.

When it was that the great Forest became aware of herself, she could not say. There had never been a time when it did not awaken to the warm sun above it; there was nothing before the taste of the purest rain on her leaves and the cool quiet nights. Surely, she had been one of the first creations in this world and felt sure that she would last long after time itself had run dry.

Though the Forest could not remember when she began to feel lonely, she could clearly recall the first time she used magic and beast and love to create her lovely daughters and sons. Her sons would prove to be a disappointment but her daughters…

In each and every one of her daughters, at her heart and fueling her soul was a piece of the Forest's own life force, connecting the very core of their being to their mother in perfect, loving harmony. This granted them their long lives, the use of magic and a keen understanding of the unseen world of the Mist.

To say her daughters protected her was an understatement. No creature drew breath nor set foot upon her covered paths without their knowledge and the Forest's consent. The Forest and her daughters were as one. To try and bring harm against her was to know a quick and painful death; it mattered not if the justice was dealt by shafted arrow or poisoned thorns. To try and unlock her secrets was to walk forever her woodland body until lost and hopeless, for her daughters would offer nothing their mother would not give. They knew their mother was without remorse to those that dared to provoke her ire and her reasoning was beyond the limited understanding of those short lived races. Her friendship and alliance seemed limited only to her own children. The best other races could hope for was her indifference and she was content to offer it.

Expanding cities and a need for goods finally did reach her endless trees and shaded trails in the form of tradesman and adventures. To refuse passage to a few, her daughter's advised, meant risking the uprising of many to try and force a path to much needed trade routes. The Forest understood what a calculated risk was. She did not fear that a confrontation between herself and the lesser races would end in her defeat. Such a thing was unthinkable yet she did not see the need to expend energy in trying to stop advancement when nothing was lost by allowing access to a few well guarded paths.

If the Forest had known that change was a two way road, she would have drawn up her boarders, hid her daughters away and left the bodies of the first few tradesmen strung up from the highest of her trees to serve as a warning.

It was to her daughters that the Forest gave the task of guarding the trade routes, for they were the most Hume like of her children and the ones she trusted the most. They were her ambassadors, her physical voice for those unable to hear her whispers and likewise, through her daughters the Forest learned about the other races.

For the longest of times, the Forest felt this to be a near perfect relationship with the outside world. She felt confident in her daughters and viewed them an extension of herself and so she did not overly fret when now and again a daughter would go walking down one of their entrusted paths and not return for several moons. After all, it was not unlike trees to far stretch their roots in order to thrive, why should her daughters be so different?

Naturally, their absence was felt and after a time, their mother would use their innate bond to call to them and urge them home. Always they answered her call. Always they returned. For though free will they had, their very nature and how alien the outside world viewed them made their mother's call irresistible. As the Forest could not grasp the ways and emotions of the short lived races, her daughters too were unable to join the cultures and peoples so different and unwelcoming from their wooded home. The magic that tied them forever with the Forest made it impossible to love another that did not share the same bond and that made even the closest relationship feel empty.

For each daughter that returned the journey itself was the punishment, a nightmare to be forgotten. In time they regained their natural rhythm with nature and could hear again the comforting voice of their mother. Whenever a wayward daughter came back, the Forest felt such peace that the sun would shine for days and any rain that fell against the upturned leaves seemed to sing.

So it was when the Forest sensed the return of her longest lost daughter, she rejoiced. How quickly that joy did turn to the darkest of feelings.

The moment her daughter pressed her way in to the forest, her mother knew she had been changed most horribly. Part of the Forest magic, _her _magic, _her_ life blood, _her_ most scared of bonds had been shared with a Hume. A Hume that moved in ignorance of the gift pulsing in his veins, a member of the most vile, destructive and short lived of the races. How had he managed to steal such a precious gift?

The Forest raged around the travelers. Branches that had opened to the warm sunny sky now closed tight above them, locking them in an endless twilight. Roots and underbrush rose up to meet their feet, catching their footing and slowing their pace. Beasts of all kinds, agitated by the anger of the wood lashed out at the weary travelers, only to be beaten back by their sharp weapons. Horrible loud bangs rang out as the most offensive Hume drew his gun again and again.

And worst of all her beloved daughter was deaf to her pleas, asking her to stop. She had become numb and blocked off from the Forest, so strong was her feelings for the Hume, so loud her desire. His intense emotions had overwhelmed the delicate senses of the wood dweller, had demanded of her completely her attention. And she had unknowingly answered that need by cutting the bonds with her mother and reattaching herself to him.

Immediately, the Forest blocked all their exits, summoned up her most powerful creatures and watched with satisfaction as her daughter was forced to beg her sisters to implore the wood for safe passage.

Her answer surprised them all, for the Forest had used its great foresight. To kill the party members now would be to deliver her daughter in ignorance to her death. Never would she know the extent of her mother's pain or the depth of her betrayal.

A sense of allowance filled the Viera who begged on Fran's behalf. A soft breeze lifted away the oppressive silence of the area.

_Let them pass_. The trees sighed.

The eldest daughter caught the edge of anger in those words. In earnest, she implored further for her lost sister. "What of Fran? Clear are her feelings for the Hume which travels. Will you not intervene on her behalf? She has been bewildered by the outside world and stumbles now blinded and flawed. We must-"

_Fran, though unknowingly has acted in a manner most unforgiveable. I fear to reach out to her mind lest my anger destroy her. Her blindness is only a start of the price she will pay. Let them go, for now. We need not hold that which will come willingly in time._ Clouds boiled up in the skies above the great canopy. Anger this strong was a rarity to the Forest, so few dared consider provoking her. The emotion stretched out of her now, casting the entire sky in to turmoil. In her wisdom she knew it best that the adventuring party leave. Now.

She would answer no further questions. Her attention turned elsewhere, settling down and waiting.

_I need do nothing_. Came her final thoughts on the matter for some time. _She has done it already to herself._


	2. The Return

Seven Months later

They called Her the Green Word, her children. They spoke to her in the hush tones of reverence and she answered in the whispers of the wind. Her outstretched leaves wrote stories against the sky and her roots run deep, touching both history and future. She was everything that lived; stone, sky, earth, water and so she knew.

She knew long before her child refused to wake

Long before the healing magic of the Humes failed.

Long before he stood before the concealed forest pathway.

She felt the chocobo's hurried claws dashing over her body, digging to gain purchase in the twisting and uneven forest floor. Only a fool would try to ride to her center. A fool or a desperate man and though she had no doubt the foolishness of Humes she knew this to be no fool's ride.

Through the eyes of the birds, she watched him. When the chocobo finally gave out with a shrill scream of protest, he jumped to the ground, sliding his companion's listless body from the saddle and taking her in to his arms. He walked quickly, shoulders stiff, leading too much with his hips to manage such an unforgiving path and he was forced to stop often.

Tired and struggling to catch a frantic breath, the Forest didn't miss how often he looked to her lost child in his arms. With what? What was that Hume emotion written so clear on his road weary face? Fear? Confusion? Arrogance to be sure. And anger. She knew Hume anger very well.

Angry perhaps that his companion refused to respond to the white magic of his kind. Angry that he now found himself deep in a hostile forest with neither friend nor assurance that he would find help from the other Viera. She guessed that really, under it all, he was angry with Fran for getting hurt and for not healing. As if her daughter had control over the decrees of the Green Word of which he was painfully ignorant.

The Forest laughed and it was not a pleasing sound. The trees shuddered with heavy winds, whipping up debris of leaves and branches from the forest floor, spinning and striking against the Humes unprotected face. Blood collected at the corner of his now split lip, spilling with saliva down his chin as he swore.

Tired arms drew Fran closer to his chest, doing what he could to protect her from the onslaught. The urge to stamp out his trivial, insignificant life was almost too great for the Forest and she felt for the first time the true mark of jealousy.

Deep within her bosom, animals snarled in answer to her building rage, waiting in the shadows to leap out and rend the man to shreds.

The Viera stopped their daily activities in the village, pausing with tense expectation with ears eager for her words and hoping to help pacify her.

A patrol of three Viera, wearing the black leathers of the Wood-Warder tracked the sloppy trail of the Hume. From the shadows and the mist, they waited the word from their mother, bows drawn and red eyes grim.

_Bring them to the village._ The creek nearby babbled. _As badly as I want to see this Hume broke, greater still is my need to see him walk my trails no longer._

_~.~_

Out from the forest, the Viera stepped silently, rising like shadows of form and fury. They surrounded the Hume in a semi-circle before he had recovered from the unnatural wind.

As good as alone and sorely outmatched, Balthier hesitated only a moment before he gently sat his charge down on the forest floor. He raised his arms ruefully in a sign of surrender. "Took you long enough."

With a look of clear disgust and hostility, the apparent leader of the group, a pure white Viera with soft looking gray ears, indicated with the tip of her bow that the man was to follow. A silent order followed and the other two Viera took up his fallen companion between them and started to head down a twisting path to the village. Never did their eyes leave the Hume.

~.~

The sunlight played over the window of the tree house, the shadows cast by the leaves danced in the small wooden room. Shadows that wove and turned in to words: _They have come, my child._

Reverently, the most esteemed of her children lowered her eyes before answering. "It is done. Without rest I have worked ever since you sent word that their metal bird had fallen from the sky. Without comfort or ease have I labored to offer you now this gift." Impossibly long and slender fingers drew the glass vial to the window, gentle as a promise. It was the size of healing potion, the liquid inside the color of freshly picked cherries, a red so dark it looked like bruises, like heartache.

A heavy rain cloud passed over the window, casting the tiny room in to somber darkness.

And so it was in darkness that Balthier entered, escorted by another who laid Fran down on the room's single pine cot before taking up guard outside the door. For a tense moment, the man and the viera considered one another. Balthier in his torn and dirty travelling clothes looked a good weight less than when last the Viera had seen him. Tired eyes, dirty hair, the metal of his earrings covered with the dust of the road, the months had not been kind.

Whereas the Salve-Maker Jote, Fran's eldest sister and the tribe's leader, looked regal and breathtaking. "You have used Lente's Tear to return Fran to us." She began in lofty, chipped words. "How short a Hume's memory must be that you have forgotten Fran is a Viera no longer? She has turned her back on the Wood and the rules of Eruyt Village. To come here once in dire need an exception was made to save my remaining sister. The gratitude of that act has been spent. You are foolish to think we would welcome either of you again."

"She's your sister." Balthier commented wearily. He was just on the side of passing out and couldn't believe he would honestly have to argue the importance of that fact to the older Viera. "And she's been hurt." He continued dryly, calculating eyes watching her reaction as it suddenly dawned on him. "You don't seem as surprised nor angered by our appearance here as I had thought. Far from a warm welcome, mind, but as I still draw breath part of me wonders if perhaps you know the purpose for our coming already?"

Ignoring the accusing undertone, Jote addressed him with a slow and even tone, as the proud leader of an ancient tribe would speak to a lower race. "Fran sleeps, healed for all to see but will not awaken, is this so?"

"You do know why we have come then." Balthier pressed. "If you have any information or help, please be quick to deliver it. I want to stay here no longer than you want us – that is to say, I would not have come at all had I found help elsewhere."

"Mine your tongue." Jote said, in a tone much softer and lacking anger. "She has been horribly damaged and cannot heal without first being made whole. That is a danger all Viera face when they leave the safety of their forest, quickly can our pure race be tainted.

You have taken from her a part of herself. The part most important and without it, she cannot awaken, cannot fully heal. Her fate will be endless dreams with no source to call her back."

"I've taken naught that wasn't willingly given." The pirate defended. "If she would have informed me she could be cursed by our pursuits, I might have protested…"

Jote quickly lifted her long-fingered hand to cut him off. "Please, do not finish that thought." To stop him from further elaborating, the leader of the village lifted the wax stopped vial and offered it to him. "Drink this if you wish her sleep to end."

The haggard man eyed the red vial he was offered. He didn't try to hide his distrust. "Should not she be the one drinking the healing potion?"

"It is no healing potion but in her case, it will heal. The words now of the Green Word are confused to her and twisted. She is deaf and therefore, cannot find her way back to herself, lost as she was too near death and the Mists. Fran gave to you something reserved only for her own kind. If you drink this, the blocking of her soul will be removed and the Green Word will guide her home."

"Dare I guess that if I refuse, she will sleep forever?"

"Yes. In time the body dies in truth without the mind and you were long in coming here."

His mouth was suddenly very dry. "And what," he asked, looking with building dread towards the vial, "is that exactly?"

Jote looked to the shadows around the room, searching to find words. There were subjects Viera did not speak of and for good reason. Hesitantly, "Four hundred and fifty years ago, in the great war that cost us many of our villages, we took the offered help of our then Hume allies. Too late did we realize the consequences of forming an alliance, of opening our villages to the handful of Humes that came to our aid." True shame laced her words now and Balthier was left wondering exactly how long Viera lived for. "When our sisters fell on the battle field and would not wake, this," her eyes moved to the vial, "was our only choice. To restore the connection that was lost, the blockage must be removed. The voice of our mother cannot carry through the stubborn ears of a Hume."

Balthier crossed his arms over his chest, "I drink, she wakes. Sounds terribly simple and all too easy. No doubt you won't tell me the details but I shan't doubt this comes at a great price to myself."

The Viera considered the pirate with cold eyes. "Restore the connection or do not. Fran knew to leave the village was a risk. All that remains to be seen is how ill placed her trust in you really was."

Snickering, Balthier uncrossed his arms and reached for the vial. "Well, I have always had a suspicion my down fall would be a woman." He cast a look over to his long time partner, so still in her sleep. "And what a woman it was."

~.~


	3. The Outcome

The liquid was oddly light and easy to swallow for a potion that carried the weight of his future. It tasted like mint and smelled like sweet ale. Best of all, it kept his mouth too busy to scream profanities.

Emptied to the last drop, Balthier sat the bottle down on a nearby table with a note of finality. There was a proud part of him that meet the leaders cold gaze with a challenge. A larger part of him was fiercely regretting that he had probably just killed himself without so much as a fight.

Weakly, the man crossed his arms. "I've done as asked, now," he gestured towards Fran, "keep your word and wake her."

"She'll wake soon enough, though I fear you won't have a chance to see her before she leaves. Must I repeat that longer is she welcome here?" Jote motioned to the guard, who bowed and left. Balthier assumed the guard was getting reinforcements and now _all_ of him was cursing loudly that he trusted the damn Viera in the first place.

"When she goes, I shall be with her. Staying here was not part of our agreement." He said hotly. "Potions and forests be damned, I have had enough of your games." Without waiting for an answer, the pirate lifted his fragile charge in to his arms. There was no way he could draw his gun occupied as he was but need be, Balthier would fight the bloody Viera off with his teeth. There was no way in hell he would linger in this cursed forest a second longer.

Outside, the branches knocked against the wood hut, a noise that sounded nothing like laughter but he couldn't shake the feeling he was being laughed at.

Much to his surprise none of the Viera that had gathered in the village center made a move to stop Balthier as he stumbled towards the exit. All eyes watched him, silent and unreadable. He would have preferred a show of aggression to this. Very troubling indeed that they weren't worried about him leaving.

The arch of trees that marked the boundary of the village was in sight. A light furred moggle that had been absent when Balthier had been brought in was now standing near the path looking horribly uneasy, shifting back and forth on tiny feet with small 'kupo' noises.

Balthier considered asking the traveling moggle for his assistance until he tried to meet the creature's eyes. Whatever was going on, the little one was either too afraid or too well paid to interfere. _Fair enough… _

The burden in his arms seemed to grow heavier by the heartbeat. Each step forward became a battle and each inch gained spent more of his energy than he would have thought possible.

Fran was dragging him to the ground, breaking him. Hours, lifetimes later, he stood a mere ten feet from the exit and the blasted unhelpful moggle, when he knew it was a lost battle. His legs were shaking from the effort to even stand, much less continue on. The thick taste of the potion bubbled in the back of his throat.

A cool hand against his arm shocked him back to himself and he wondered how long he had been standing there in place, struggling to catch his breath. Looking over, he recognized the owner of the hand as Fran's younger sister Mjrn. Her short white hair had gained a little length, hanging just to her shoulders but otherwise she looked unchanged. He dimly registered there were tears in her eyes.

"Fool pirate." She said under her breath as she removed her sister from his arms, holding her lightly as if weight was nothing.

"A vial of poison then, was it?" He coughed out, licking his cracked lips to no avail, as he had not a drop of moisture to spare. "A crude but effective means to remove 'blockage' I suppose. A life for a life and such. You didn't need the falsities, not to me," he continued softly "not about this."

Mjrn shook her head, passing Fran off to one of the tall guards that stepped forward. An unspoken agreement passed between them and the wood warder hurried away out the entrance, holding Fran tightly.

Balthier watched, dropping to his knees. He longed to stop them from taking Fran, but having dispelled any illusions about what was really happening here had drained him of his will to fight. "Willingly I would have died, an honor…Oh I do so hope I don't haunt such an spineless lot. Very boring, I'd say…" A few spells danced just out of reach and he could think of at least ten things he _should_ be doing right now to save himself if only he could find the strength.

"Not poison." A voice from behind him, soft but disdainful. _Jote maybe?_ He thought. "You should died for what you have done. Such a painful, shamed reminder of past mistakes have you brought glaring forth in to my village."

Breathing ragged, brow dripping with sweat, Balthier doubled over as his vision began to blur. There was a pressure inside him now, pushing against his frame with an intensity that left room for little else. 'Lies to the end. If not death what pretty words call you it?' He managed to wheeze.

"A means to an end. A solution to a very rare but troublesome problem. Nothing more."

"Speak plainly." He gasped, tightly gripping his middle. The pressure was becoming unbearable.

As one, the group around him muttered, "We speak not of it."

As one, the rest of the Viera turned their backs on the scene unfolding before them and moved as ghosts to the trees. Only Mrjn, Jote and the moggle remained with the man, who was feverishly hoping he would hurry up and die for the pain would at least stop. Unless he had carried too much faith that death was a release of the mortal coil and what an unpleasant thought that was.

Finally, darkness descended over his vision and he was being dragged in to it. Falling, falling forever, out of his flesh, out of himself until only the tiniest core of his being remained.

~.~

"Where should I take him to, kupo?" The mogul asked nervously, his red pompom bobbing up and down with each dip of his head.

The Viera ignored him as they secured the bundle to the back of his chocobo. After it was safely in place, the tall leader of the village sighed.

"Away." She answered as she stepped over the pile of Hume clothing on the ground. "Away and quick, I care not where. Take as well his personal articles. I want no reminders here."

Mjrn halted her sister as she moved to stop her from walking away. "Why? Why send him his Hume possessions? He will not remember what he was and in confusion might seek answers to who he had been."

Jote shifted her gaze away from her sister. There was no hope she could shelter her from learning the truth. Mjrn was to be the Salve master of the village and Jote could not afford to leave her in the dark. "The Green Word has left him his Hume memories and Hume understanding, he will have to learn how to reconcile that with what he is now. A small matter it is if he keeps his clothing.'

The younger Viera stopped following her sister, the unshed tears finally chasing down her cheeks. 'Left him his Hume memories?' She repeated in dull shock.

'Our actions today was the justice of the Green Word, sister mine, not like when we were forced down this path before. The pirate will remember, every waking day, what he was, what he is no longer. He will remember the Hume emotions he can no longer reach, exiled in his own cities. All Veena Viera, our pure blooded kin, will know him as marked by the Green Word."

To this Mrjn had no words. Her shock was so great, she couldn't even think of responding to her sister.

~.~

_Gil. Large, massive piles of shimmering gill. Feathered, exotic potions. Rare black leathers. Maps, piles of maps on fresh parchment, showing faster trade routes and hidden secrets. Forest goods the likes of which no other mogul could offer._

Over and over again, Mocchi played these images in his mind. Because he found that reflecting on all he had to gain from his relationship with the Viera village was enough to block out the crying of the child.

Almost enough to block out the crying of the child.

It was a soft, high pitch noise that reminded Mocchi of his own moggle kits and it sent his instincts scrambling. The tiny, soft brown ears peeking out from the short dark hair didn't help, either.

"Kupo, kupo." He hushed softly to the bundle but the baby was having none of it. In fact, the more Mocchi tried to distract it with toys or offers of yuma milk, the more he seemed to upset the kit. "Oh, Nono is going to be extremely angry when I deliver you to him, kupo! You were his favorite employer." His ears drooped further at the miserable thought. Nono was the authority on sky ships but Mocchi was willing to bet none of that knowledge extended to dealing with young. No matter if Mocchi explained how helpless he had been in this deal, the blame would be square on his furry shoulders.

Small comfort that Mocchi had probably saved Balthier's life by agreeing to take him away from the village, helpless as he was in his current state.

The merchant pulled his hat from his head and begin worrying it between his small paws as the chocobo increased the pace. The flying ship was just over the ridge now. Nono would be waiting for his employers to return. No guessing what had become of the lovely Viera… Added that, Mocchi didn't even want to think how Montblanc was going to react when they showed up, unannounced with such a package.

It was going to be an extremely long and truly uncomfortable ride to Rabanastre.

_Gil… large…boulder size piles of gill..._


End file.
